Afghan Women’s Summit – an act of defiance in itself

Sitting together, talking, arguing, laughing, singing – today’s Afghan Women’s Summit is an act of defiance in itself. Here in Tirana, in Albania, women are free, but if we were in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan, the enforcers of the Ministry for Vice and Virtue would arrest everyone in the room where I’m writing this. Laws introduced last month mean that if women’s voices are heard in public, they or their male relatives may be punished.

Most of the women I’ve met here fled Afghanistan when the Taliban seized power after the US withdrawal and the fall of the previous government in 2021. Now they’re scattered across the world.

A handful have managed to attend despite still living in Afghanistan. “I listen to the younger generation and try and give them hope,” said one, who wouldn’t show her face on camera. “I remind them the first time the Taliban were in power they were thrown out. It’s going to happen again. You will go back to school. I try to improve their morale.”

But morale is low. A women’s rights activist in Kabul sent us a message:

“Women have reached a point where they no longer have a reason to live, and every day we witness women taking their own lives in the remote areas and villages,” she said.

Families dare not publicise such tragedies for fear of attracting the Taliban’s attention. “The women are buried in corners secretly. A profound sense of hopelessness has engulfed Afghanistan.”

At the summit, the women shouted, “No to gender apartheid!” and sang the chorus of a specially composed song: “Work, Bread, Freedom, Education!”, a variant on the Iranian protest slogan “Women, Life, Freedom!”

But can a gathering of women, many of whom held positions in the ousted government, make a difference? Fawzia Koofi, the former Deputy Speaker of the Afghan Parliament, and the driving force behind the summit, says Afghan women have to unite if they’re to put pressure on the international community and the Taliban.

“For now, I think the Taliban feel that they are the only power in Afghanistan. They do not see the need for negotiation,” she said. “I think negotiation is probably the endgame. But first we need to build consensus amongst ourselves.”

That consensus won’t be easy – Afghan women, like their male counterparts, are divided by ethnic group, political belief, mistrust and rivalry for power and influence. But those here are united by a longing for their homeland.

I last saw Farzana Kochi three years ago, when she was an MP and we were making a film about her struggle to improve the lives of her poor, nomadic constituents. Now she’s a refugee in Norway. She’s done well, and has nearly completed her Masters in International Development. But she can’t stop thinking about the people, especially the women, she left behind.

“No matter how many years, I will still cry,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “This wound is so deep. A country of millions of people is not something you can give up on. It’s not possible.”

No-one here thinks it will be easy to topple the Taliban, or even to get them to compromise, but just being here together has strengthened the women’s resolve to try.